Yue blinked in surprise as Jia and Eui vanished suddenly, without a trace. She’d seen Jia use her Steps of the Stalker technique before, but it usually wasn’t quite so...total. Yue couldn’t sense any sign of the two girls at all, and she had to assume that Yoshika had figured out some way to use it on both of her bodies. She was broken from her reverie by the feeling of cold steel on her neck—evidently she wasn’t the only one startled by the sudden disappearance.

“Where did they go? What was that technique? Explain.”

Yue glared defiantly up the length of the blade. As if a threat like this was going to frighten her when the man intended to carry her off to her death anyway. Still, the Emperor’s Heavenly Host was an infamously rigid group of elite cultivators, and she wasn’t keen on accelerating her death, so she answered candidly.

“They’re invisible, I think. Or perhaps more—the technique is called Steps of the Stalker, a shadow element technique that they learned from a spirit that is performed jointly by both their bodies and souls. They wisely never told me how it works in specifics, so that’s as much as I can tell you. If even you can’t sense them, then I am afraid they have simply escaped.”

That didn’t seem to please the soldier, but he at least removed his sword from her neck. Yue rubbed at it, but he hadn’t even cut her skin. She hoped that she hadn’t betrayed Yoshika by giving up that information. It was easily acquirable public knowledge, but time could be of the essence. She cursed her carelessness. The white-robed man spoke, but not to her.

“Increase priority of target designations Lee Jia and An Eui—live capture only.”

Yue didn’t hear a response—presumably the man’s speaking stone was a bit more advanced than the ones she was accustomed to. Live capture certainly sounded promising—or perhaps not, depending on how you looked at it. She briefly contemplated revealing that she also dabbled in such cross-disciplinary techniques, but since her life didn’t seem to be in imminent danger, she elected to hold that in reserve for now. The imperial host sheathed his blade and returned his attention to Yue.

“Come with me. Do not resist, as I have—”

“Been authorized to apply lethal force, yes. You said that already.”

If the man was perturbed by Yue’s interruption, he made no indication of it. She clicked her tongue in frustration—she couldn’t even have the satisfaction of annoying her captor.

“Fine. Where are we going?”

She didn’t really expect an answer, but to her surprise the soldier responded in that distinct clipped monotone that his kind always used.

“I will escort you to the northern gate. There, we will join the evacuation efforts, and I will continue to accompany you until you can be turned over to Yan Ren, Yan Hao, or another legal guardian to take responsibility for your crimes against your sect.”

Not the empire, Yue noted—her sect. That was an important distinction, as it meant that her fate was a matter of sect authority rather than imperial law. Crimes against the empire would have meant a public trial and an equally public execution, but being spared that accusation meant that Yue would have a bit of wiggle room, legally speaking. She was still at the mercy of her father, however—and mercy wasn’t something he was particularly renowned for.

She followed along quietly, and her captor made no attempt to bind her. Not that he really had any need to. The Emperor’s Heavenly Host was an elite force of powerful xiantian cultivators that the God-Emperor took in as his personal retinue. They answered directly and exclusively to the Emperor himself. They were all exceptionally powerful, and each one of them was at least a match for the likes of Yan Ren and Yan Hao, if not her father. The only reason they operated under Yan Ren’s command at all was because they weren’t exactly known for their...initiative.

Whatever process they went through to be indoctrinated into the regiment instilled absolute loyalty at the cost of their independence. Some considered it a great honor, but Yue thought the entire concept of it sounded horrifying. With what she’d learned of Seong Eunae and her power, Yue’s faith that the soul was inviolate was beyond shaken, and she suspected that there was quite a bit of soul violation involved in the indoctrination of the Emperor’s personal guard. Given the nature of her own talents, Yue felt a bit hypocritical, but reminded herself that her techniques could only deceive and manipulate—she couldn’t just change a person. It was a small distinction, but she clung to it to justify her continued use of Melody of the Dreaming Moon—no matter how distasteful the technique might seem, it was her mother’s legacy, and she was proud of it.

It always seemed strange to her that her father had ambitions to join such a group just to be closer to the emperor. She supposed he had designs on being a commander of sorts—perhaps some kind of intermediate between the host and the emperor. She’d never heard of such a position existing, but it could be that he thought to create it. Yue would never say it, but that seemed like pure arrogance to her. Had she been in her father’s position, she would have been content to rule at the head of the greatest sect in the nation. Her father was never satisfied with anything, though. He probably naively thought he could surpass the God-Emperor, as if the man would ever allow something like that. For all their talk about the evils of tyranny and oppression, it had always seemed to Yue like the empire was the very definition of oppressive.

At some point Yue noticed that they had joined a large group of people headed north—they’d already passed the gate without her notice. It was odd that nobody had interrupted them, but she supposed that the domain of the soldier next to her was probably enough to scare off any of the weaker demons, and the more powerful ones likely had their hands full elsewhere. Or they had already flown off like that strange one with the eyes in his hands. Her eyes settled on a familiar figure, unmistakable as he towered a head and shoulders above most of the people around him. She called out without thinking.

“Oh! Guan Yi!”

Guan Yi turned to meet her eyes. His face was impassive as ever, but she saw the way his attention focused on her as their eyes met, before he glanced towards her captor and frowned—actually frowned! Yue could barely contain her shock. The expression only lasted a moment, but on the face of the legendary stoic, it may as well have been a scream of rage. Guan Yi nudged the boy next to him, who Yue recognized as Xin Wei—the two were nearly as inseparable as Jia and Eui.

Xin furrowed his brow as Guan pointed Yue out, taking out a talisman and casting a spell before covering his mouth. After a short conversation that Yue could neither see nor hear, Guan Yi nodded and Xin grimaced before shaking his head and dispelling the privacy field and approaching with an extremely fake smile and open arms.

“Why if it isn’t Yan Yue! I’m so glad to see that you made it out of this whole mess unscathed. I don’t suppose you’ve heard word of our other mutual friends?”

Yue tensed as Xin spoke, and all of the social games that she’d been unlearning over the past year began to flood back into her mind. She hadn’t spoken to Xin much, but he was being very familiar—using her full name without honorifics. The emphasis on other and the way he’d refused to name them indicated both that he was speaking of Jia and Eui, and that he recognized that they were likely in some kind of danger. She hadn’t missed this—there was so much to unpack with every phrase, every choice of word, even the tone in which something was said could carry layers of meaning.

She returned the smile—much more genuine than Xin’s, she thought he could use some practice on that front.

“Xin Wei! I’m so glad to see that you’re alright. I’m afraid I haven’t seen our friends—you know how they can be. I’m sure they’ll be alright, though.”

Translation—’Jia and Eui are probably fine, they escaped using their stealth technique, and yes, you are correct in assuming that they are considered fugitives of the empire, so don’t mention them by name. Also, I don’t know what you’re planning, but whatever it is, I’m willing to play along.”

There was a lot that could be said without actually saying it. In Qin, it was said that there were always two conversations happening at any given time. The one spoken, and the one unsaid—in Yue’s experience that was a drastic understatement. Since such secret conversations were so heavily dependent on context and improvisation, it made it nearly impossible for an outside observer to follow without intimate knowledge of the speakers. As such, a fairly common rule was—

“No speaking to the prisoner! Miss Yan is accused of crimes against her sect, and is under my custody until she can be turned over to an appropriate guardian.”

Xin’s look of shock was so unconvincing that it was more obvious he’d expected that than it would have been had he not reacted at all.

“By the Emperor! How have I not heard of this? What crimes does the Great Spiritual Flowing Purewater Sect charge my fiancee with?”

Yan Yue’s mind went completely blank as she tried to process what Xin Wei had just said. After taking a moment to reset, her cognitive functions returned and her eyes widened as she realized what Xin was doing. It was too bold by far! She instantly regretted agreeing to go along with his plan. Had Lee Jia infected the entire academy with her recklessness?

The silence was deafening, as even the infamously unshakable imperial host seemed to be taken aback.

“Miss Yan is not a member of the Great Spiritual Flowing Purewater Sect, nor, to my knowledge, is she betrothed.”

Xin shook his head ‘ruefully’ and Yan Yue had to suppress a grimace. How was he this bad at acting!?

“We had planned on announcing it officially when we graduated and returned home, but it seems that things have been accelerated. Still, I think you’ll find that we are well within our rights to establish an official engagement.”

Yue’s white-robed captor frowned.

“No—Miss Yan is a scion of one of the Great Sects, only representatives from two or more Great Sects can agree on—”

Xin interrupted rudely, putting his hands on his hips and staring down his nose at the taller man.

“And what am I? Chopped liver?”

Yan Yue wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry—there was so much wrong with Xin’s plan that it was almost comical, but at this point they were all in far too deep to back out of it. Of course, the host began to dismantle Xin’s argument.

“The Xin clan’s Spiritual Flowing Purewater Sect is no longer considered a Great Sect.”

Xin sniffed haughtily.

“By whose decree!?”

The elite soldier hesitated, but still responded in the usual monotone.

“The imperial family—”

“Is not the emperor! Only the God-Emperor himself has the authority to strip a Great Sect of its title or appoint a new one.”

And therein lay the crux of Xin’s argument. He was technically correct, according to imperial law, but it hadn’t really been done that way in centuries. The imperial family acted with the authority of the emperor in such matters, and everyone simply accepted that as the way things were. Everyone except for the extremely rigid, extremely precise, and unfalteringly loyal heavenly host. That was why the soldier had initially repeated Xin’s use of ‘Great Spiritual Flowing Purewater Sect’—in a way, he had already admitted that Xin was correct.

The white-robed man seemed genuinely distressed, his eyes swimming as he tried to make sense of his conflicting orders. It was as if something had broken in the poor man, but after a moment he straightened out and schooled his expression.

“Be that as it may, Master Xin, Miss Yan does not carry the authority of her sect due to the accusations levied against her by the Great Awakening Dragon Sect. She cannot agree to your proposal under the law.”

Master Xin. This was insane. It wouldn’t have worked on literally anyone else in the entire world except for this specific group of brainwashed hyper-loyalists. Had Yan Ren been here, he’d surely have put a stop to the argument long before it reached this point. Xin shook his head, not even trying to hide the smug grin on his face as he looked up condescendingly at the much more powerful man in front of him.

“I’m not proposing, sir. I am simply informing you of the fact of our engagement. The actual proposal happened months ago, long before my Yue was accused of any wrongdoing. She had the authority then, did she not?”

The soldier grimaced, his facade rapidly breaking down.

“That—you have nobody to corroborate such a—”

Guan Yi, who had been standing silently at Xin’s side, spoke for the first time, sharply and decisively.

“I can. I witnessed it myself.”

“M-me too. I accepted Xin—I mean, my Wei’s proposal at the end of last spring. It was a spring romance.”

Yue cringed internally. That had not been her best performance, but at this point she wasn’t even sure if it mattered. Xin was absolutely mad, and while this wasn’t her preferred way to avoid the wrath of her clan, it was better than the near certain death that awaited her otherwise.

Xin nodded matter-of-factly.

“Well, there you have it! We were, at the time, both representatives of our Great Sects when the engagement happened. By imperial law, a woman betrothed becomes part of her fiance’s sect until such time as the marriage is finalized, or the engagement annulled. If the Great Awakening Dragon Sect has charges to levy against my Yue, they can take it up with my father, the sect Grandmaster.”

The audacity of Xin! The sheer impudence! And yet—the elite soldier scowled, he looked left and right as if he might find an answer lying in the grass somewhere, he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists...and then stopped. His face went back to the same neutral expression as usual, and for a moment Yue genuinely thought they’d somehow broken him. Then he just nodded.

“Very well. I submit Lady Yan to your care. My duties here are complete. I will take my leave now.”

The white robed man turned and simply flew away. Yan Yue collapsed to her knees in disbelief, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was free! Well, for certain definitions of freedom—but she had slipped the noose for now. Yan Ren would be furious, he’d try to overturn the ruling, but once a member of the heavenly host made up their minds, nothing could overrule them aside from the God-Emperor himself. Their word was literally law.

Yan Yue looked up at her savior—the insane mastermind that had managed to do the impossible. Xin Wei—was leaning heavily on Guan Yi and covering his mouth, his face pale.

“By the emperor, I think I’m going to be sick! I can’t believe I let you talk me into that, Guan. Next time do me a favor and just slay me on the spot!”

Yue’s expression went blank as she watched Xin Wei literally vomit from the anxiety of debating one of the empire’s most elite cultivators. She had to mentally reevaluate him in her mind. He was clearly a much better actor than she credited him for.